Skip to main content

Two wolves


Some days I need the warmth of connection more than others and when I do it often arrives from unexpected sources: the flight of a cooper hawk low in the sky, a deer’s quiet contemplations, a bluebird on the trail ahead or a loved ones words returned to me.  Today was such a day and I welcomed each offering in turn. 
So when a friend extended a story that had brightened her day, I wasn’t surprised to find my dads oft repeated wisdom contained within...

As a kid I often worried about what to do and who I’d become in the topsy turvy landscape of human experience.  When I asked my dad about it he told me the story of the two wolves and finished saying, "Don't worry about what to do kid, feed the wolf you want to be and the rest will take care of itself.” 

Two wolves 
A member of the community goes to an elder: “I am trying to find my way, but I am struggling with the path and within myself.” The elder explains, “Inside each of us, there are two wolves which fight all the time. One of them is the good wolf (which represents love, peace, hope, kindness, bravery and compassion). The other is the bad wolf (which represents greed, anger, arrogance, resentment, shame and fear). And these two wolves fight all the time.” The member of the community reflects and asks, “If these two fight all the time, then which one wins?” The elder shares, “whichever one you feed.”

Cherokee First Nation Origin

A good reminder for all of us. Feed the wolf you want to be and the rest will take care of itself.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

grief

Grief is defined as a deep or intense sorrow. I have been thinking a lot about grief, about it's wide and sticky reach, about the watery quality of it's absorption and the agonizing effort of swimming to shore. Intense sorrow happens. It is a part of life. Yet we press against it. We try to eradicate it. How? We encapsulate our grief in a story, thus effectively removing us from the immediacy of the pain. The mind promises salvation and begins to tell a story, over and over and over. We listen to the inner ramblings, the constant diatribe, the neurotic attempt to avoid the experience. When someone is hurting we listen to their story, we talk about it, we recount our own story, but we certainly don't jump in the waters of sadness, instead we sit on the bank of our familiar longing. Once, when I was floundering in deep grief, my youngest brother knelt next to me and held me for over an hour. He didn't speak. He didn't commiserate. He just jumped in the

a story recently shared by a friend

 Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself

Inosculation

I learned a new word today!  Imagine my joy to discover "inosculation", to taste the word for the first time, rolling it around the soft interior of my mouth before speaking it aloud with a shiver of delight.   I am a lover of trees, not metaphorically but literally.  I linger beneath their branches. I tear up beside their solid beauty and revel in the rough, steady touch of bark beneath a wide sky.  I love learning anything new about my beloveds and today I discovered inosculation , which literally means to unite intimately. Sometimes trees grow so close to each other that they rub up against one another.  The friction of bark on bark wears away at the hard outer layers, revealing a tender, vulnerable, embryonic layer of life.  If they stay in contact through the friction they will join together, uniting into a third thing....  a tree union.  In such cases the trees share their life force with one another.  I can think of no more perfect metaphor for beloved companions.   Th